Sienna started therapy twice a week instead of once.
Not because she thought she was broken. Not because she needed someone to tell her she'd made the right choice leaving Dante. Not because she was falling apart. But because Dr. Amara had gently suggested, after their last session where Sienna had spent forty-five of the fifty minutes crying about things she'd never said out loud, that processing everything that had happened might require more than one hour a week.
"I can't fix you in fifty-minute increments," Dr. Amara had said with her characteristic bluntness. "And you don't need fixing anyway. But you do need space to process. Real, consistent, protected space where you can fall apart without worrying about putting yourself back together before you walk out the door."
